A cross between Dekalog and The Meaning of Life, though without the poignant curiosity of the former or the anarchic fury of the latter, The Ten is a star-studded, half-baked, take-it-or-leave-it "goof" on the Ten Commandments, in the parlance of co-writer Ken Marino's surgeon, who's keen on leaving instruments inside his patients' bodies because it makes him giggle. (He's the "thou shalt not kill" commandment, natch.) It's divided into skits pasted together by Paul Rudd–delivered monologues interrupted by his wife (Famke Janssen) and lover (Jessica Alba), and it features recurring characters (played by the likes of Marino, Winona Ryder, Rob Corddry, Liev Schreiber, and others) who glide in and out of sketches like partygoers in search of someone more interesting to talk to. As it was made by David Wain and Marino (the men who brought you Wet Hot American Summer, a film whose sole ambition was to remake Meatballs), it ain't all that interested in theological discussions, merely eliciting a few giggles as it travels down a darkly comic trail in need of a burning bush.
Not taught in Sunday school: Alba tempts Rudd.
Opens at Uptown and Varsity, Fri., Aug. 3. Rated R. 95 minutes.